


Desperate

by HeadFullOfAliens



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hand Jobs, Hannibal is Hannibal, Light Angst, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Someone Help Will Graham, Teasing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Will Graham Hates Himself, Will is a Mess, Will is salty, Will kink shames himself, i said it was mild, unconventional therapy, will is in denial, will thinks hannibal hates him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:39:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadFullOfAliens/pseuds/HeadFullOfAliens
Summary: Will is convinced Hannibal hates him, so he decides to annoy the hell out of him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure garbage. Enjoy. :)))

Will supposed Hannibal loved him.

 

It _had_ to be that way, right? After all they went through, after all the scars inflicted to each other, all the healing afterwards, all the rage, all the suffering. And Bedelia’s answer to Will’s question.

 

 _It was that way, it was that way_ , Will would repeat in his mind.

 

But, if it was that way, then why was Hannibal avoiding him?

 

And it’s not like Hannibal had avoided dining with him last night or something; no, it was much worse. Hannibal had been actively avoiding being in the same room with him for about a year now, since they arrived to Cuba.

 

They were there, in a country Will didn’t even speak the language of, and Hannibal was avoiding him. After pulling them both out of the sea, Will had expected things to go differently.

 

And differently they went; just not in the way he wanted.

 

Will was going insane.

 

If he had been drowning himself in whiskey for the past month, it was all but his fault. He couldn’t stand staying awake, sober, listening to Hannibal rummage about the house. He cried himself to sleep, feeling pathetic, unwanted, like a burden.

 

Perhaps Hannibal had grown bored of him. Perhaps he thought Will would become something other than what he became. Perhaps, Will thought while hiding his tear-filled face in his pillow, Hannibal was disappointed.

 

He heard footsteps approaching to his door, and he tried to muffle his sobbing, a glimpse of hope in a corner of his heart. He resumed crying when the footsteps went away.

 

*

 

Next morning, Will felt like shit. He always felt like shit lately, truth be told, but this morning he had a special sort of headache, a special sort of distaste for life.

 

He got up, wobbly legs barely keeping him standing, as he went downstairs in search for some coffee.

 

He’d grown accustomed to the idea of Hannibal ignoring him. Perhaps, this newfound hatred for air was due to the small hope that grew in his chest for a moment last night.

 

He heard a small, almost inaudible gasp when he entered the kitchen, eyelids not quite open, head hurting at the smallest ray of sunshine.

 

He forced himself, a hand over them, to open his eyes and look at the man in front of him.

 

It was Hannibal.

 

He shouldn’t have been surprised; Hannibal was always up early to make some coffee and breakfast for them both. Or so Will guessed, since every time he’d get up, there’d be something waiting for him at the table. Maybe Will was too early this morning.

 

Lecter carefully constructed a composed expression, only letting Will admire the, perhaps, surprise in his features for less than a second.

 

“Good morning, Will” he greeted, still looking at Will.

 

Will found it hard to find his voice. He felt broken, for a moment; he figured he looked like hell, like the broken shell of a man. It could only inspire disgust in Hannibal. Will suddenly felt like curling up into a ball and crying.

 

“H-hi” he muttered. “Good morning” he wanted to add his name, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Will was afraid his voice would break if he dared speaking his name out loud.

 

After all the times he had moaned it into a pillow right before crying out of disgust at himself, he just couldn’t do it in front of the man himself.

 

“Would you like some coffee?” Hannibal asked, turning to serve Will some of it before he could even answer. The gaze he gave him before turning made Will’s stomach turn. There was something in it Will couldn’t quite recognise. Disgust, perhaps.

 

Will swallowed before answering an unsure “Yes”, his fingers running through his hair in a vain attempt to tame the wild curls. He looked down at himself, realizing he hadn’t bothered dressing up before coming down. He just didn’t think Hannibal would be around.

 

Feeling heat gather in his cheeks, turning them red, he noticed the possible cause of Hannibal’s strange look to him. Not only was he in his boxers and nothing else; he was hard, too.

 

The heat raised up to his ears, and Will thought of running away only to be stopped by the sound of china against wood. He quickly sat in front of his mug, hoping the table would be enough to cover his shame.

 

He didn’t even remember having any weird dreams last night. He didn’t doubt he’d had one, though, giving how common they’d become lately.

 

“Did you sleep well?” Hannibal asked, sitting opposite to Will, taking a sip of coffee.

 

Will hated that he was trying to make small talk. Like they needed that sort of bullshit. As if Hannibal hadn’t been ignoring him for far too long now.

 

“Yeah” he said, grabbing the warm mug between his hands. He wondered if he was supposed to ask Hannibal back the same.

 

“I see” he replied. “I was under the notion that you were having nightmares, again”

 

Will frowned. He looked down at his coffee, trying to figure out what to answer. It made him feel like Hannibal was trying to pretend as if nothing happened; like they could just go back to their usual conversations, when Hannibal was still Will’s psychiatrist.

 

“Why would you think that?” _Why would you care_ , he wanted to ask instead.

 

“You are aware that our rooms are next to each other” Hannibal said. “I can hear you panting sometimes, in the middle of the night” the confession made Will’s blood freeze. “I am concerned you might be returning to old habits. Is something bothering you, Will?”

 

The tone in Hannibal’s voice held something Will couldn’t point out. The way he was breathing, like he was trying to calm himself down. Like he was trying to prevent himself from choking Will.

 

That particular thought shouldn’t have sent shivers down Will’s spine, but it did.

 

Nevertheless, Hannibal was acting strange. Will vaguely wondered if Hannibal wanted to kill him for good this time. Was he being rude? Or just generally displeasing? Maybe that’s why Hannibal had been ignoring him.

 

“No” he said, scratching his neck nervously. “No, they’re not…” What was he supposed to answer, though? _I’ve been dreaming about you, Hannibal, and they were not nightmares._ That sounded ridiculously wanton, even for him. “I’m not having nightmares. Don’t worry”

 

“Analysing our dreams can always bring some light into the darkest corners of our subconscious. Even if they are not nightmares, you may feel free to share them. Perhaps I can help you unravel the mysteries that hold you worried”

 

It sounded as pretentious as ever, and Will would have agreed, had the dreams not been about the man asking.

 

Looking into Hannibal’s eyes, and seeing the same barely recognisable emotion from before, he settled for annoying him. If Hannibal already hated him, then there was no point in trying to seem polite.

 

“I’ve dreamt about sex” he let out, clutching his jaw. Saw the emotion in Hannibal’s eyes strengthen. It could only be an ever growing disgust at him. It hurt like daggers to his eyes. “I don’t see how that could tell you anything about my subconscious. If anything, it would tell you that I’m a man, and not one with a lack of sexual drive”

 

That would have been a blatant lie before. Now, it just seemed like a normal description of his person. Hannibal had turned him into everything he never expected to be. He turned him into someone that craved human touch. Goddammit.

“I see what you mean” the doctor replied, nodding. “However, I still believe it could tell us something about you. Dreaming about sex can often tell you about what you lack, or what you think you lack. It also indicates a craving for a sort of stimuli you don’t have in waking life”

 

“So, you’re saying, if I dreamt about… say, cuffs, then I should what? Become a cop? I was already one. It sucked” he said, mockingly, seeing with amusement as Hannibal’s expression shifted for a second at the mention of cuffs.

 

“You were not a cop, Will” he replied. “And that is not what I meant. Perhaps you should include cuffs in your sexual life”

 

Will was torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to blush.

 

“Sexual life” he muttered. “Like I have one”

 

“I was under the assumption that you did have one” Hannibal said, looking straight into Will’s eyes, an amused smile in his face. “Isn’t that why you go out every weekend?”

 

Will wanted to roll his eyes. “I go out for a walk, Hannibal, not to fuck random strangers”

 

“I was not suggesting you fucked strangers” the swearword sounded sinful in his lips. It almost made Will swoon. “Perhaps something more formal”

 

“Like a relationship?” Will said, bitterly. _Like the relationship I thought we had_ , he bit back. Like what Will thought they had, or could have had, had Hannibal not despised him suddenly.

 

“Yes. Like a relationship. Are you not in one?”

 

“Are you?”

 

“No” he said, looking down at his coffee for a second, before returning to Will’s eyes. “Then, perhaps, you should start one. I assume the sounds I hear coming from your room are caused by these dreams, which seem to happen quite often. It might be an indication of sexual frustration” a small pause. Will licked his lips, Hannibal mimicked him. “Are you frustrated, Will?”

 

_God, yes._

 

“No” he struggled to keep eye contact, an unspoken fight for dominance. Will knew he’d lost before he’d even started. “Are you, Dr. Lecter?”

 

The glimpse of darkness in Hannibal’s eyes made Will shiver. He already wanted to be drunk again. He was too sober for this shit.

 

“I must say I haven’t partaken in any enjoyable activity lately” he replied, carefully. “However, I wouldn’t call myself frustrated. Cautious, perhaps”

 

“Don’t you crave intimacy, Dr. Lecter?” he knew the name was probably pissing him off, but that was all Will had in mind right now. Getting any sort of reaction from Hannibal before he went back to complete avoidance. Something to think of in his loneliest, drunkest nights. “Why aren’t you on a relationship?”

 

“I could ask you the same, Will” the name sounded like a dare.

 

Will felt delicious adrenaline rushing through his bloodstream. He knew he was pissing him off. He knew he’d end up killed, probably eaten. He didn’t care. All he wanted was to see Hannibal’s expression change, for once.

 

“I do crave it” he bit his lip. “It has been haunting my dreams. Like a shadow”

 

“Then you are frustrated”

 

“Frustrated? Not quite” he wanted to bite his tongue. He knew he should stop talking. He had to stop, he had to get up, thank him for the coffee, and go back to the safety of his room. He’d regret it if he continued. “Afraid, perhaps” he shrugged. “My dreams are quite intense” he all but purred.

 

“What are they about, Will?” Will could notice the slight change in Hannibal’s position, inclining himself ever so slightly towards Will.

 

_You._

 

“Things that will never happen” he finally said, sighing. He shook his head, trying to get his composure back. “Thank you for the coffee, Hannibal” he said, standing up. He hadn’t drink any of it, felt way too dizzy to drink anything at all.

 

Without waiting for a response, he went back to his room.

 

*

 

He knew how he must have looked.

 

Ridiculous. Broken. Embarrassing.

 

Lips parted in a not-so-silent plea, legs the same, a hand stroking himself while the other one played with his entrance.

 

“Hannibal…” he couldn’t avoid whispering the name.

 

Pictures painted in red haunted him. An imaginary shadow loomed over him, shaped like Hannibal, encouraging him to keep on going. Flashes of flesh, hard angles, silvery hair, and strong hands holding him that made him stroke faster.

 

His release came at the same time he imagined the shadow reaching out to him, to touch him with its fingerprints. He panted into the pillow, trying to recover his breath, all of his muscles relaxing at once.

 

The knock at his door almost made him jump out of his own skin.

 

One, two, three.

 

He didn’t say anything, was too scared his voice would give away what he was just doing. Or, perhaps, Hannibal had heard him already.

 

He knocked again.

 

“Will?” this time, Hannibal’s voice followed the knocks almost immediately. “Dinner is served, in case you wish to come down” nothing in his voice indicated he had heard Will’s shameful act.

 

“Y-yes, okay” he muttered, his voice slightly trembling.

 

He collapsed into the bed once the footsteps went away.

 

“Oh, fuck” he whispered to himself, feeling disgusting. He got up on unsteady legs, going to the bathroom to clean himself. He put on some pants and a white shirt, and decided to go down.

 

There’s no way Hannibal could have heard him. And even so, why would it matter? Will had needs, after all, and Hannibal probably knew that.

 

With new-found confidence, he ventured downstairs, being greeted by the nice smell of fish. Hannibal was already at the table, sitting with a white button-up that was probably fancier than it looked to Will and black slacks. His sleeves were rolled up, and Will had to bite his lip not to moan at the sight of Hannibal’s strong forearms.

 

“Good evening, Will” Hannibal greeted him, signalling with his hand towards Will’s plate, next to him.

 

“Hannibal” Will said as all greeting, the name feeling strange in his tongue.

 

Sitting besides him, he dared looking up at Hannibal’s eyes. He wished he hadn’t, when he caught a glimpse of what seemed like disgust in them. Hannibal had most definitely heard him. How much had he heard?

 

“Have you followed my advice, Will?” Hannibal asked, eating calmly. Will felt like he hated him for it, for not confronting what was happening.

 

“What? Buying cuffs?” he mocked. “If you must know, then yes, I bought cuffs. Leather ones. For what end, I don’t know” he almost smiled at the sight of Hannibal’s jaw tensing up.

 

“I didn’t mean that, Will” he replied. “I was talking about having a relationship”

 

Out of context, the question made Will smile. If he ignored what they were talking about, it almost sounded like Hannibal was asking him out.

 

He was brought back from his schoolgirl fantasies by Hannibal’s clinical look on him; nothing more than the concern of a doctor, vaguely from a friend. Never from a lover.

 

“I don’t want to have a relationship, Hannibal” it wasn’t completely untrue.

 

“Do you find native women unattractive?” he asked.

 

“No, I’m just not interested in women” he replied. Then, he realized what his answer sounded like. “I mean, I’m not interested in dating a woman, regardless of nationality”

 

“A man, then” was Hannibal’s calm response.

 

“N-no, I didn’t mean…” Will felt like he couldn’t eat anything of what was in front of him. His stomach was rushing with emotions; anger, sadness, hope. “I’m just not interested in… other people”

 

“Other people?”

 

“Yeah, I seem to be attracted to brutal people exclusively. There’s not much of that around” he joked. Hannibal’s serious look told him the joke wasn’t well received. “I mean…” he coughed, taking a sip of wine that ended up being a big gulp.

 

“What are you attracted to, Will?” Hannibal asked, pouring some wine in Will ‘s now empty glass.

 

“You mean like what gender?” he replied.

 

“Not necessarily. I meant features, personality traits” Hannibal poured some wine into his own glass.

 

“I like…” Will thought about it. Rough hands and husky whispers came to mind. He swallowed. “I… don’t know”

 

“Do you not?” Hannibal asked, doubtfully. He looked at Will like he didn’t believe him, like he could see right through his bullshit. He probably could.

 

“I like big hands” is all he managed to answer. He regretted it the second it left his mouth.

 

“What else?”

 

“Deep voices” he gulped. “Tall bodies and broad shoulders”

 

“Is that it?”

 

“Dominant personalities” he could start feeling his blood rush to his cheeks, and to other places he didn’t want blood in at the moment. He was staring intensely at his glass of wine, not daring looking up. “What do you like, Hannibal?”

 

“Big hands are elegant” he agreed. “However, I am more drawn to wild personalities. Interesting people will always be my doom” he gave Will a half smile before raising his glass.

 

Will felt something inside him shatter for a second. Maybe he wasn’t interesting enough.

 

“I must ask, though” a small pause that made Will hold his breath. “What do you plan to do with the cuffs? It does not sound like you plan to use them”

 

Wil shrugged. “Maybe I’ll just toss them in a corner of a drawer”

 

“What a sad end for such a useful tool”

 

“Do you need them for anything?” Will teased.

 

“No” Hannibal replied. “Do you?”

 

“No” Will stood up, too frustrated to keep on chatting. “I’ll be back in my room” he announced, not so sure why he did it. He marched to the stairs when no reply arrived, turning his back to Hannibal.

 

“Will you be finishing what you were doing?” he heard Hannibal say. Will froze. “Or had you already done so?”

 

“Goodnight, Hannibal” was Will’s sole reply.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal convinces Will to resume his therapy (or rather, their 'just-having-conversations' thing).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me almost two months to decide what to do with this, haha. This was going to be a one-shot initially, but since I ended up posting half of it anyway, I decided I might as well extend it.  
> I've added some additional tags. Do mind them!  
> Warning for mild dub-con (quite mild, though).
> 
> Enjoy!

The tension building up was driving Will up the walls. He swore he was going insane.

Hannibal hadn’t mentioned anything like that again, but Will could feel his burning look every time they were in the same room. Hannibal didn’t avoid him anymore, but Will wasn’t so sure he felt better with that. He swore he could hear footsteps near his door whenever he succumbed to his lowest needs.

He had even started being louder, moaning Hannibal’s name every time he came, well aware Hannibal would hear him. It made his blood rush every time he had to look at Hannibal’s face.

Will wouldn’t do anything about it, though. He was being consumed by infinite, not corresponded lust. He knew Hannibal didn’t feel the same way, so he only settled for annoying him with it. Small details, like saying Hannibal’s name in a slightly too insinuating tone whenever he spoke to the man, or looking at Hannibal way too often. He loved the way Hannibal’s jaw tensed, ignoring completely the disgust the man must have felt for him.

He wondered if Hannibal would let him kiss him. If he would push him away. If he would feel sorry enough to let Will lick his lips.

What’s the worst that could happen? Will thought, crossing his legs in his chair. They were just done with dinner, all dishes clean. Hannibal was placing them back where they belonged, while Will watched. 

Will knew Hannibal knew why he was sitting there. It excited him, to let Hannibal know exactly what he had in mind while looking at him, with a simple gesture. Hannibal would turn around occasionally, pretending to look at the table, but Will knew it was his way of asking why he was sitting there, watching him. Will’s heart always seemed to skip a beat when Hannibal’s gaze finally met his own, all while he bit his lower lip.

Hannibal had to know, if the slight turn of his lips –a mockery of a smile– was anything to go by.

“I believe we should talk,” Hannibal said, way too casual, without looking back at Will.

“Talk?” he snorted. “Do you want me to resume my therapy, Dr. Lecter?”

Hannibal’s shoulders tensed up for a fraction of a second. Will smiled triumphantly; he knew calling him that made Hannibal tense up. Exactly why, he wasn’t sure. Maybe he was just angry they weren’t on a first name basis anymore. Will reserved Hannibal’s name for a special kind of teasing.

“Do you think you could benefit from that?” he finally turned around, facing Will, the last glass back at its place in the cupboard. He leaned against the counter, looking at him, expression stoic.

“Considering I don’t talk to anyone else,” he shrugged, “maybe.”

Hannibal nodded. “Let’s move this conversation to my room, then,” he said, walking out of the kitchen. Will followed him, saying nothing. “I am afraid my studio isn’t conditioned for a therapy session, so my room will have to do for now.” He explained, walking upstairs, holding the door open to let Will in.

“Well, am I supposed to sit in your bed while you psychoanalyze me?”

“I have two perfectly good chairs, Will. Unless you find my bed more appealing,” his tone was too amused for Will’s liking.

He clicked his tongue, moving towards one of the chairs Hannibal had talked about. He sat down, legs spread, not completely sure why he had agreed to this in the first place. Hannibal sat down in front of him, crossing his legs, resting his hands on them.

“Tell me, Will,” he began, in an all-too clinical tone, “How are you feeling today?”

Will chuckled. Was he really doing this? “Good,” he replied. “I’m feeling good today. Are we going to talk about my mother?”

“A cheap way to pass therapy time, I think you once said,” Hannibal said, unmoved by Will’s salty replies. “You have taken upon a good habit, which I would prefer to discuss. If you wish to talk about your parents, though, I will not stop you.”

Will smiled with fake gratitude. “I don’t know what you mean. I haven’t been doing anything new.”

“You’ve been quite observant, lately.”

“Observant of what?”

Hannibal made a small pause, leaning in slightly, before continuing. “Do you not trust me, Will?”

Will crossed his legs, maintaining eye contact, a small smile as he understood. “Oh, you mean I’ve been observing _you_ ,” he licked his lips, considering. “Does it bother you, Dr. Lecter?”

“We are mimicking our therapy sessions, but I am still not your psychiatrist, less now than ever. There is no need to call me doctor.”

“What if I like to call you that?”

Another small pause. Hannibal’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly, analysing Will’s expression. “Do you enjoy calling me a doctor, because of the power it conveys me with over you?”

“Power?” Will blinked a couple of times, truly thrown aback by the question. “What power could a doctor have over me?”

“All sorts of power,” Hannibal replied. “You trust a doctor with your health, which in turn, gives him the opportunity to manipulate it. This last aspect is strengthened here, since you use the word ‘doctor’ mostly in reference to my position as a psychiatrist,” he argued, nonchalantly. His gaze focused back on Will, the next words almost whispered. “I am in charge of your mind, in a way.”

“Which gives you the opportunity to manipulate it.”

“Indeed,” he nodded. “This is what I meant with power. I must remind you I’m no longer your therapist, though. We are simply having conversations, like friends.”

“Like friends,” Will repeated, in a mocking tone. “If I remember correctly, last time we had conversations like friends, I ended up framed for murder.”

“Then, I’m afraid I’m correct.”

“Correct about what?”

“You do not trust me.”

He snorted. “Well, should I?”

Hannibal didn’t reply. Instead, he uncrossed his legs, leaning back against his chair. “Why are you here?”

“You said we should talk,” he shrugged.

“I meant in this country.”

Will’s jaw tensed. What the hell did he mean by that? Why had he accepted to run away with him, after he had no choice left? What kind of game was this? Will didn’t like this one bit. He thought about how he could change the course of the conversation back to something he was more comfortable with. He considered it, uncrossing his legs, hands over the armrests, leaning back.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he shrugged, worrying his lip between his teeth, looking at Hannibal.

“You had every choice,” Hannibal countered. “Perhaps you find comfort in the idea of not having a choice, however,” he got up, walked around the chair to a drawer behind it. Will saw him searching for something, curious. When he walked back towards Will, he had a long, red ribbon in his hands. “This is silk,” he explained. “I need you to stand up for a moment, please.”

“What’s that for?” he asked, doing as he was told, eyeing the silk nervously.

“Clasp your hands behind your back, please,” he instructed, his hands on Will’s shoulders, turning him around. “I will tie your hands now.”

“What?” Will asked nervously, the touch of the soft silk against his wrists as Hannibal did as he said almost making him jump. “What are you doing? Why?”

“It’s an exercise,” Hannibal explained, wrapping the whole length of the silk around Will’s wrists, and up to his elbows, his forearms only inches apart from each other. “I believe there are quite a number of issues you need to work around, and I shall help you, as soon as I discover their exact severity. Please, sit down again.”

Will turned around to see Hannibal sitting down. He felt slightly off-balance, walking back to his chair feeling like he might fall any second. He knew it had nothing to do with the restraints; they didn’t do much besides rendering his arms useless. The whole situation was what was making him feel dizzy, almost disoriented.

He sat back, trying to move his hands only to confirm he couldn’t. He swallowed around a dry throat. “What’s the point of this exercise?”

Hannibal said nothing, simply observing. Will could almost see the different thoughts racing in the man’s mind, behind his carefully stoic expression. He was probably thinking what to do next, Will thought.

“Am I just gonna sit here, with my hands tied up behind my back?” he asked, shifting anxiously. “I don’t get it.”

Hannibal stood up once more. A step, then another, and another, and suddenly he was just a few inches away from Will. He raised a hand to Will’s face slowly, a finger tracing his jaw. “If I were to slap you now, you wouldn’t have a choice but to take it.”

Will swallowed, shutting his eyes, waiting for a hit that never came. He opened his eyes slowly, looking up to Hannibal’s amused expression. “Are you going to slap me, Dr. Lecter?”

Hannibal’s thumb traced over Will’s lower lip. “Do you want me to?” Will’s mouth was forced open, Hannibal’s finger sliding in. “Do you have a choice?” he asked, pulling his thumb out just to push two other fingers in.

Will closed his eyes, trying hard not to move, not to suck on his fingers. When they touched his tongue, he couldn’t avoid moving it against them, almost instinctively. He heard Hannibal hum in amusement, before pulling his fingers out.

“I – I don’t want you to slap me,” he stuttered, opening his eyes to look up at Hannibal again.

Hannibal’s fingers traced down his chin, to his neck, leaving wet traces behind. He rested them in the collar of Will’s t-shirt. His other hand went to the opposite end of it, pulling it up slightly, his hand slipping in, tracing the scar in his stomach. Will moaned quietly, before he could stop himself.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice coming out more broken than he had expected. “Why are you doing this?”

“Do you have a choice?” Hannibal repeated, his left hand tracing up, stopping at one of Will’s nipples, pulling at it gently. Will whined, pulling at his restraints as Hannibal continued to circle his nipple, pulling occasionally, scraping it mindlessly with his short nails. “Can you do anything else, besides just taking it?” his tone was harsh, almost angry. Will panted, his breath shaking, the feeling of fear expanding through his whole body. “If I choose to do anything else, will you just take it?”

His left hand finally left Will’s torso, and Will almost sighed with relief. His breath got caught in his throat when Hannibal cupped his erection, rubbing it slowly.

“W–What…” he tried to say, biting his lip not to moan. “What are you– _Oh._ ” Will didn’t even register when had Hannibal unfastened his jeans; he could only focus on how good it felt, how cold Hannibal’s hand felt against his heated skin.

“Naughty boy,” Hannibal murmured amusedly, his hand stroking Will with tortuously slow motions, “You’re not wearing underwear. Were you expecting anything?”

“ _God._ No,” Will muttered, his mouth falling open, panting, trying to thrust up to gain more friction. Hannibal’s other hand held him by the hips, preventing him from moving. “ _Hannibal_ ,” he moaned, “Why–?”

“Do you have a choice?” he interrupted him, accelerating his motions.

Will moaned unabashedly, shaking his head. “No, I don’t – I don’t have a choice.”

“Don’t you?” Hannibal’s thumb rubbed at the head of Will’s cock, smearing precome all over the length. Suddenly, he stopped. His hands left Will’s body, and he straightened up. Will whined at the loss of touch, looking up confusedly, watching Hannibal lick his fingers. “You’ve always had a choice, Will. You choose not to take it. You choose to be choiceless.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, breathless, desperately looking at Hannibal, trying to figure out what all this was about. “I don’t – I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t tie you to the chair,” Hannibal pointed out. “And I didn’t force you to come with me here. You have always had choices, yet you choose to pretend you don’t.”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“You could have escaped,” he said. “Before Chiyoh brought us here, you could have escaped. Jack would’ve understood you had to kill the Dragon. Or you could have chosen to go elsewhere, without me.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I tied your hands to prove a point,” he replied. “I gave you the impression you couldn’t move, yet you could have walked away. I didn’t tie you to the chair, because I wanted to give you a choice.”

“Oh,” Will said, his gaze dropping to the ground. He nodded slowly, feeling humiliation cling to his skin like sweat. “You wanted to mock me,” he snorted. “What do you want, Hannibal? To torture me? To make me say something? Do you want me to admit I wanted this?”

Hannibal stepped back, giving Will space. “No,” he answered. “I want you to admit it to yourself. You’ve been tiptoeing around this for quite a while now, waiting for me to take control of the situation.”

“Could you – Could you untie me?” Hannibal nodded. Will stood up, turning his back to Hannibal. When his arms were free again, he rubbed at them, trying to make the blood flow back to them. He tucked himself back into his jeans, still not facing Hannibal, too embarrassed to even move.

“If you need anything, you only need ask”

Will laughed. Quietly at first, then loud enough to make his stomach hurt. He fisted his hands at his sides, trying hard not to lose control. “Would’ve been good if you had finished with me before humiliating me,” he joked, crossing his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling cold.

“I mean it,” Hannibal said, placing a hand on Will’s shoulder to turn him around. “I will not do anything like this again,” he stated, tone severe, “Unless you ask.”

Will chuckled in disbelief. “Is this another one of your games? You wanna make me beg?” he smiled, bitterly. “Fine,” he shook Hannibal’s hand away from him, “But I won’t. Let’s see who gives up first.”

Before Hannibal could reply, he walked out of the room, shutting the door closed behind him.

If Hannibal wanted to play, he would play along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get more tense from now on lmao
> 
> Thank you for reading! You can find me on [Tumblr.](http://headfullofaliens.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> This is incomplete, of course. Might post the rest later.


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